


We're Not Something You're Afraid Of

by astronavigatrix



Series: Antithesis/Analogue [1]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Exactly 1 (one) kiss, F/M, Gen, Innuendo, color ships only sort-of relevant (for now), idk where I'm going with this yet so let's just have some fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12584556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronavigatrix/pseuds/astronavigatrix
Summary: Cause you think that you've seen what we're made of--orThe Rowdyruff Boys expected their glorious (if ill-advised) return to Townsville would be an easy takeover. Unfortunately for them, the girls haven't exactly been slacking since they've been away.





	We're Not Something You're Afraid Of

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently got on a nostalgia kick and started re-watching original PPG, and after binge reading some good PPG/RRB fic I thought I'd give this a shot.

 

  
        The city of Townsville... is in more trouble than it has been in years.  
  
        At least, that's the plan.  
  
        Three pairs of eyes scan the metropolis, peering with maladjusted disapproval at the (relatively) clean streets filled with cheery citizens going about their business. Matching sneers curl three near-identical pairs of lips as they continue their observation, until one hand rises, drawn from the pocket of a black and red jacket, and long, slender fingers give a single, meaningful _snap_.  
  
        Grins overwrite the sneers immediately, wide and vicious, and without further prompting, two of the three figures take off toward the city's biggest electronics store, landing in the parking lot with an earth-shaking crash. They stride in between already-departing patrons, laughing, and walk straight through the suddenly inoperative sliding glass doors. The blond jostles the brunet beside him, jerking his thumb at the manager just off to the side near an emergency switch, and laughs. It's a cheerful, boyish laugh--- one that might be pleasant, if it werent for the cruel, mocking edge. His companion snorts out a laugh as well, boisterous and smug and, without missing a beat in his stride, shoulders through the glass on the inner set of doors with an amused shrug. Shaking the detritus off, the two make their way toward the entertainment section, picking up and dropping objects at random as they go.  
  
        The blond pauses at a locked display eyeing the expensive (special edition navy and chrome!) headphones contained within, and promptly reaches out an eager hand for them. The lock doesn't stand a chance as his fingers crash past the glass as if he were simply dipping his fingers in water and grip the metal surrounding it. Jerking it out of his way, he snatches up his prize gleefully, mindful to shake the glass off completely. Tucking them around his neck, he lifts into a hover to catch up with the other, already shredding through a video game display to switch out the disc in the console with a properly playable one.  
  
        A second controller is tossed his way without a second thought, and he snatches it out of the air before settling into a hover beside him, legs splayed forward, and shoves the wire into the player two slot.  
  
        Still outside, their third waits in the sky until approaching stripes of pink, blue and green can be seen overhead. Then he drops down to make his way inside, grabbing a drink from one of the coolers near the checkout, and drifts leisurely toward the other two. Popping the tab on the energy drink, he chugs most of it down before tossing it aside and planting a hand on each of the shoulders before him. The can leaves a faint trail of sickly greenish-yellow liquid as it rolls under a shelf.  
  
"Look alive boys--- we've got incoming."  
  
        Almost as if on cue, three bright flashes zip through the remnants of the front doors, the wake their speed churns up dropping the last of the glass from their frames, and three figures that are the polar opposites of the ones before them slide to a halt, hands on hips and glares haughty.  
  
"I can't freakin' believe this!"  
  
"Wow, it really _is_ them...!"  
  
"And here I thought we were rid of this particular nuisance. Wishful thinking, I suppose... Guess Miss Bellum was right girls. The boys _are_ back in town."  
  
"Huh... did they get... cute?"  
  
        Two voices rise in unanimous (embarrassed?) disbelief at the thoughtless comment, chiding:  
  
"Bubbles!"  
  
        Slim shoulders lift and fall flippantly, amusement lifting the corners of her mouth. Boomer sits up a little straighter.   
  
"What? You were both _thinking_ it!"  
  
        The three voices of their counterparts barely register to the three boys in question. Whatever they had interrupted the girls doing, it had apparently required them to don white and gold cheer uniforms. And from two matching high ponytails and a swept-back bob to matching sneakers with their signature colors worn only as accents at their ankles, the girls were the portrait of pristine and peppy--- even windblown and disapproving as they were.  
  
        Brick is the first to recover, hands once more in his pockets, lean body tilted forward at an almost surreal angle.  
  
"Hear that you two? Guess even girls this _good_ can't resist a _bad boy_."  
  
        Boomer's smile is indolent and sly, a wink tossed in the girls' general direction as he pulls completely up out of his slouch. His hands go behind his back, hands clasped to forearms loosely, and he eyes his counterpart with slow, purposeful consideration.  
  
"Hey, not like I'd be against helping one of these good girls go bad, Brick," one slim brow arches playfully, and Buttercup feigns a gag into the palm of her hand. "If they wanted to, that is."  
  
        The last of them rises, not near as slim as his brothers but still close enough that their similarities are blatant, and Butch drapes an elbow against Boomer's shoulder, gesturing lazily with the same hand.  
  
"C'mon Boom-- like any of 'em looks like they know how to have _fun_."  
  
        Buttercup bristles-- something about Butch has always gotten under her skin much easier than either of his brothers-- and she's the first of the girls to take a menacing step forward, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her mouth pulls into a similacrum of a grin, fierce and unfriendly, and her knuckles crack as she clenches her fists tighter still.  
  
"Oh I know how to have plenty of fun, slimeball-- starting with my fist in your face...!"  
  
"Buttercup!" Blossom's voice is sharp and warning, and she turns a cool gaze on the boys before her, palms spread imploringly. "Look, just give yourselves up _now_ and we can all avoid a lot of unnecessary pain. We don't want to fight you--!"  
  
"Unnecessary pain? Are you guys hearin' this? Who's she think we are, wimps like her and her sisters?"  
  
"--but we will if we have to," she finishes, glaring at Butch for his insinuation, but otherwise making no hostile moves forward. "What do you say?"  
  
        The three boys share a slow, considering look, heads rolling on their necks toward each other until they lock eyes. In a heartbeat, those eyes narrow, their lips splitting into small, cruel little smirks, and with a loud chorus of _'nah!'_ the girls find themselves on the receiving end of three sudden bull rushes, each pushing them toward a different sector of the store.  
  
        Divide and conquer--- a basic strategy the boys had long since figured out worked best on the girls, in order not to give them time to regroup and strategize. Without Blossom's ability to analyze weaknesses, Bubbles and Buttercup were easy pickings.  
  
        At least, that's how things used to be.  
  
        But while the boys had come back expecting the same three girls they'd fought day in and day out for a good portion of their childhoods, one thing quickly became abundantly clear:  
  
        Whoever those girls they'd always beaten easily were, this _wasn't them_.

 

* * *

 

        Household goods, Boomer considers nonchalantly as he eyed a nearby washer, had so many possibilities. But as he weighs the benefits of heavy duty for damage versus something lighter for speed, a wall of sound from where he'd slammed the blue puff into a nearby display becomes a far more pressing concern. He remembers well her sonic shriek, and how much ringing it left in his ears as a prepubescent boy, and snickers that she's still using that trick. And here he and his brothers were technically supposed to be the 'old dogs' in this situation.  
  
        Clearly though, he doesn't remember the power well enough. When he turns to try and wade through the noise pollution to get to her, she simply takes a solid step forward and dials up the decibels with a curl of her lip. Boomer grits his teeth as his ears begin to ring, taking a step forward himself, threateningly. The sound intensifies, and to his shock, he finds his sneakers beginning to slide on the linoleum. Clenching his fists, he straightens up, energy collecting in his palms-- and is promptly blown back by a wail that makes the few glass doors on some of the washers around him splinter to smithereens. Boomer himself slams into one, two, _three_ large household appliances before he's stopped by one of the store's support pillars, plaster raining down onto his head.  
  
        It's swiftly followed by a lance of bright blue light, and he has to scramble to all fours and dive to one side to avoid it.  
  
        Watching the dust settle, the slender figure of Bubbles comes into view, a bow of pure, crackling energy held expertly in her grip as she searches for him in the thin cover the debris provides. When she finds him, she eyes the glow coalescing at his right palm almost expectantly, as if she knows what he's planning do next. Boomer wills a bat into each hand without further hesitation and charges, swinging them both down overhand like clubs. The bow changes into a staff as she swings it up to parry, sending blue-white sparks raining between their bodies when they meet. Bubbles meets his eyes and  _smiles_.  
  
"That's new!" She chirps, almost complimentary, and Boomer offers what he thinks is a charming smirk, which she counters with a beaming grin.  
  
        Sweet as sugar, always---  
  
        ---at least until one hand pushes up while the other pulls down, throwing his bats to one side and him off-balance. Her arms cross, twisting the staff, and before Boomer can recover, one of her legs hooks behind his knee, staff pressed against his throat, and she slams him into the ground so hard he swears he hears more than the foundation crack. The faint thrum of her weapon makes itself known right next to his ear as she plants it beside his head, leaning forward onto it to peer down at him, all wide hopeful eyes and earnest attempts to stem the violence.  
  
"Ready to stop?"  
  
        Nice as the view is-- and he lets her know he's looking, eyes lingering on those long legs and over that partly-bared stomach-- he knows just what will happen if he gives up so easily. So he lashes out with a leg, surprising her and knocking her to a knee as he rises to his own, pushing her back against the floor with a slight slam of his own. The staff disappears in her surprise, and she looks to where it had been and then to him, pouting.  
  
"Sorry sweetheart," he laughs, and despite the ache in his shoulders, it's honest. "A Rowdy won't give in that easy...!"  
  
"Geez," she returns with a laugh of her own, disbelieving and somewhat exasperated, "you boys never did know what's good for you!"  
  
        Her hands take hold of the front of his hoodie, slender little fingers twisting into the thick fabric, and with a yank, Boomer suddenly finds his air supply much more limited. His fingers scrabble against hers, completely removing his grip from her shoulders, and she shrugs, nonchalant but still looking just the tiniest bit apologetic.  
  
        Vaguely, he remembers that she'd never really liked fighting him after a while when they were younger.  
  
"If you won't give up, then I guess I'll just have to wear you down!"  
  
        Suddenly the last thought is unimportant because her feet are planted in his stomach, and he only has a second to appreciate that cheerleader flexibility before her legs straighten with a grunt and she sends him flying into the ceiling. More plaster cracks around him and his splayed limbs, and he stares dazedly down at her as she stands, obviously intending to fly up to meet him. Boomer yanks his arms free with only minimal contact with the wiring in the cracked light fixtures to either side of him, and meets her upward charge with a downward swing of a single, slightly over-sized bat.

 

* * *

  

        Though he'd tried to drag a furrow into the electronics section's carpeted floors with her body, Butch's counterpart was very simply not having it. Instead, mid-tackle, she'd taken hold of him, picked up speed, and at the last second, twisted out of his hold and slammed him forward into the back wall. Then she'd stood there, smug, while he dragged himself out of the crater she'd made with him, snarling menacingly at her. The snarl becomes a broad, anticipatory grin, and she returns it with a narrowing of her eyes and a knife-edge smile.  
  
        Oh yeah. Butch hadn't had a workout like _her_ in a while, and while his brothers were enough of a challenge, neither of them had ever been as slippery and outright _electrifying_ as she was.  
  
        Rolling his shoulders, Butch cracks his neck and spreads his arms out almost in welcome, fingers all motioning her forward, eager. Buttercup cracks her own knuckles in response and bends at the knee, already swaying forward in preparation.  
  
"Ohhhohohoh _baby_ \-- I _missed_ dancin' with you.  
  
        Buttercup barks a laugh, sharp as her smile, and pushes up onto her toes; Butch braces himself for impact.  
  
"Can't exactly say the same," she replies, whip-quick and cocky, then all but _explodes_ toward him, one fist extended forward, "but I guess a dance partner like me is hard to come by."  
  
        A little more than a foot from him, Buttercup suddenly drops toward the ground, her extended fist opening to be used as a brace, and pushes off from the floor in order to plant both heels into the underside of his chin. Suddenly airborne (and not of his own volition) Butch barely has time to reconcile the fact before Buttercup has twisted upright, whirling gracefully with the motion to deliver a single, hard kick directly into his chest. The dent he'd made in the wall becomes a full-on _hole_ , and Butch finds himself crashing through the shelves of a dimly-lit storage area, coming to rest atop a pileup of twisted metal and dented cardboard. Overhead, the flickering lights make his spinning head a little more difficult to deal with, and so for a moment, he's grateful when he sees the one directly above him sputter and go out.  
  
        Sitting up, he vaguely notes Buttercup's hazy silhouette taking out lights with her laser vision, seeming to blur into a dusky, nebulous figure as she steps further into the gloom.  
  
        Then he loses sight of her completely, and as he stood, Butch kept a wary eye out for any sudden motions as he moved toward one of the last lights left nearby. If she wanted him in the dark, he reasoned, all the more reason for him not to stay there, right?  
  
"Aww, what's the matter, musclehead?" Her voice came as an airy whisper, mockingly trailing into his ear from seemingly nowhere. "Afraid of the dark at your age?"  
  
"The fuck I am," Butch retorts, twisting in place with a jerk of his elbow backward into-- nothing. A click of his tongue against his teeth, and wary emerald eyes scan his periphery carefully even as he steps closer to the light. "What about you? Scared to go against me head to head after last time?"  
  
        Buttercup's answering laughter is brazen and mocking, and he feels the faint drag of nails against the back of his neck, and then there's a sudden grip in the hair at the back of his head, yanking to expose his throat. Another wild swing hits nothingbut air, and instead a jab hits his side, harsh and unforgiving, followed with a quick but painful elbow high in his ribs. A sharp intake of breath that's nearly wasted by an untraceable strike to the back of his shoulder, and Butch kicks out and slightly back, rewarded with the satisfying sound of air rushing from lungs in the wake of an unexpected strike soon after. A solid punch from the left and a kick to the back of his right knee follow in quick succession, Buttercup appearing before him to jam her knee into his gut (once, twice) as he wobbles forward slightly.  
  
"Crap," she rasps breathlessly, green eyes wide, shimmering with faint lime-tinted light, hand rising for another hit, "I forgot how good your instincts are."  
  
        Grinning, he crooks two fingers and jerks the half-shield he'd tossed up behind her forward, sending her stumbling into his own waiting fist. Again he gets her in the gut, following with a swift hook to her cheek with his other hand, an uppercut following that makes her teeth click together loudly as it snaps her head back. Butch grabs the front of her uniform, appreciating the drag of the shirt up those taut abs as the fabric shifts, and hauls her back up level with his face.  
  
"Trust me babe, I'm gonna make sure forgetting _anything_ about me is _real_ hard for you this time around."  
  
        Her fingers grip tight around his wrist, and with a hop one thigh is around his arm, the other his neck, and she's twisting him into the floor with a force that topples the few shelves that had remained standing. Wrenching the arm backward, her knee presses between his shoulder blades as she lowers her head, short tufts of silky hair tickling his ear as she laughs against it.  
  
"Alright then tough guy," her grip on his arm tightens, dragging back, "try and impress me."  
  
        Pushing himself off the ground with his free arm, he unbalances her enough to have her stumble slightly, and it's enough to give him the leverage to simply slam his arm (with her still gripping it tight) into the floor a couple of times. Her grip loosens on the fourth slam with a gasp, giving him the opportunity to snatch the limb free and roll to his knees over her.  
  
"Ask and you shall receive," she mutters dazedly to herself, almost as if she hasn't realized he's there yet. Butch snickers and twists a hand into the front of her shirt again, only to have those slender arms and legs once more trap him in an arm bar. His free arm takes hold of one of her legs, thumb digging into the meat of her thigh, seeking out the aorta with singular intensity. The noise she makes when his thumb presses in just a  _little_ harder is _delicious_ , making Butch smirk down at her as he feels her leg start to go slack.  
  
"Baby, I ain't even started givin' it my all yet."  
  
"What a coincidence," she replies, and then her body seems to phase out of his grip, a crack of neon green within a tendril of something like smoke marking her reappearance not a foot away. "Neither have I."  
  
        Butch stares down at his empty hand, disbelieving, and then snarls and charges at her without a second thought. Buttercup drops herself into a lower stance, arms out and forward as she braces herself to meet him head-on.

 

* * *

  

"--now, _freeze_...!"  
  
        Brick's dash at Blossom had been ducked at the last possible second, and the redheaded girl had immediately launched herself after him with a flurry of sharp blows-- mostly palm thrusts and edge strikes. A low sweep of the leg had become a backward feint, followed by a lunge with a knee into a backward elbow and then a quick hop back--  
  
"Shit--!"  
  
        --and with that cheesy line, her heel had hit the ground, bringing up wave after wave of ice spikes that had him hopping back out of their range until one snagged his pant leg. The reaction was immediate: the frost spread up the fabric and along his body until he was coated with a thick coat of ice. While it might have completely immobilized most, it only infuriated Brick, who shuddered at the chill against his skin for a half-second before he inhaled sharply and as he saw the recognition flash in her eyes, exhaled a torrent of flames almost directly into her face. Her backward steps became a spin on one heel, elegant and precise, an arm rising to the sky from her hip a she turned. The ice wall that rose in the wake of the sweeping movement lasted long enough for the single breath to make a sizable dent in its thickness.  
  
        A thin, glossy sheet was all that remained between them as he caught his breath, the heat from the flames having melted the ice on his limbs to make it that much easier for him to simply shake the fragments off as he moved. He met her next head-on strike with a _roar,_ watching in satisfaction as the sound gave her momentary pause. Taking the pause to gain the upper hand, Brick's own flurry of blows was all hard punches; the first few connected, but once Blossom's discomfort at the howl he'd emitted was gone, her cool-headed confidence returned, and his blows were parried and cast aside.  
  
        Weaving around a haymaker that would have laid her out for certain, she took hold of his arm and shoulder and spun on her heel, tossing him back in the direction they'd come from.  
  
        Turning in midair, Brick dragged a stop, hovering in place just long enough to watch as the two bodies of his brothers were similarly launched in his direction. Reaching out, he snatched them out of the air by the backs of their respective jackets, and dazed but grateful, they turned their eyes to their leader, perplexed. Brick's eyes were dangerously bright, focused on a point directly in front of them as Blossom's voice rang out, calling:  
  
"Alright girls, form up!"  
  
        Immediately, the three brilliant pastel streaks make their way toward them, and the girls come to a halt in the air before them, once more at attention on either side of their leader. It strikes the boys again how different they look now-- still as sweet and 'good' as ever, but there's something about them now, something mature and confident, that hadn't been there the last time they'd laid eyes on their counterparts at age ten.  
  
        (Brick hates that his mind immediately wanders to Blossom's long legs and the smooth slope from her slim waist to her hips.)  
  
"When the _fuck_ ," Butch finally speaks, impatience and irritation getting the best of him as usual, "did these sissies get so..."  
  
" _Tough_?" Buttercup supplies archly, cracking her knuckles. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
"Well duh, greenie, that's why he _asked_ ," is Boomer's jeering reply, and Bubbles sputters out a faint giggle in reaction.  
  
"It was rhetorical, Boom," Brick grits out, and his brother hums noise of understanding as their leader finally releases his two siblings' shirts, his own knuckles cracking as his fingers curl into tight fists. "Not that it matters how strong they are-- we're _stronger_. Always have been, always _will_ be."  
  
        Blossom slides her foot back, bringing her knuckles up.  
  
"Then put your money where your mouth is, _mutt_."  
  
        Bubbles and Buttercup _'oooh'_ quietly behind her, but Brick barely hears them. Instead, his vision goes black-- then _red, red, **red**_ \-- and he lunges at Blossom again with a roar that is decidedly even more inhuman than the previous one. Smoke and flames curl from between his lips, and as her sisters try and dive to help, his brothers attempt to take them out of the fight instead, off in opposite directions once again. Buttercup plants her feet into the ground before Butch can take her too far, wrestling his arms off of her, but he immediately grabs her hands, engaging her in a battle of nothing but raw strength. Bubbles meanwhile simply goes limp, sliding out of Boomer's grip, and rolls to her feet as soon as she hits the floor, darting back toward Blossom once again.  
  
        Her sister is engaged in ducking and dodging the enraged Rowdyruff leader, his punches coming too swiftly for her to do much more than try and parry them aside or try to dodge. Bubbles' approach is halted by the sudden, unnatural twist of his head in her direction, and in the tide of flames he spews to keepher at bay, she notes his eyes are almost entirely black, save for the burning red of his irises. Halting, she backs up in visceral, instinctive fear of those eyes, and wonders how Blossom manages to look completely unconcerned. Boomer takes the opportunity to tackle her to the side, and Bubbles gives an indignant shriek that sounds like 'you _meanie_!' as she's toppled over a blue-ray display.  
  
        Blossom for her part is in fact _far_  more concerned than she seems-- but giving in to fear isn't her style. Instead she does her best to think of a way to calm Brick down.  
  
        Except her repeated dodging seems to only be making him angrier, and in turn that makes him faster, and so in a half-baked attempt to throw him off, she parries one of his arms to the side, steps into his space, blocks the other arm with her forearm and with only the tiniest hesitation, leans in and plants her lips on his.  
  
        Brick freezes as if thunderstruck, eyes wide and unblinking, and Blossom reaches up to jam his jaw shut with the heel of her palm, ice spreading from her lips to his, overtaking his whole body. Smoke curls from his nostrils as Brick instinctively tries to burn his mouth free-- but too late.   
  
"I think you should chill out," Blossom laughs, soft and superior, frost still spilling from her lips as she pulls away. Brick tries to answer, but the ice is already too thick and spreading fast, even as Blossom pulls back to give it more room to grow.  
  
        In seconds, Brick is nothing more than an ice block several feet thick, and his brothers stare, dumbfounded, until Blossom's attention turns to them. Then they realize they're outnumbered, and after sharing a look, disengage from their counterparts and dig their fingers into the block housing their eldest sibling and promptly jettison away. A moment later the sprinklers, lacking the cold from Blossom's powers to dampen the heat and with Brick's still-raging flames beginning to rise, go off, soaking the girls from head to toe. The three of them share a flat look, groaning in unison, but then Buttercup steps forward, placing a hand on Blossom's shoulders as her sister breathes out, creating a temporary ice ceiling for them to escape the deluge under.  
  
"...that was close, Leader Girl." Quiet, somber. "Too close. I thought we could handle them by now?"  
  
"You didn't see his eyes, Buttercup." Bubbles' voice is tiny, hesitant. "They were... they looked..."  
  
        Bad. Wrong. Vicious. _Evil_ \--  
  
"Weird," Blossom finishes, closing her eyes and shaking her head at Bubbles' incredulous look. "Considering where they came from the second time, we should have considered the possibility of something being off compared to us."  
  
        Silence reigns between them as the sprinklers peter off, the sound of EMTs and the Fire Department pulling up outside reaching their ears.  
  
"We'll talk more about this later Girls. For now... time to do some damage control."  
  
        Her sisters wince, and Blossom almost does too, but no-- she has to stay calm, stay focused. They haven't had a fight like this in years, and their ability to keep collateral damage to a minimum outside of monster fights had been improving.  
  
"Guess we should set our 'workplace incidents' counter back down to zero, huh Bloss?"  
  
        Buttercup's attempt at levity is met with a wan smile, and Blossom shrugs her shoulders, nodding absently as the news cameras begin to pull up.  
  
"Yeah," she replies absently, already turning and taking stock of the reporters headed their way, planning how best to deal with each of them. "Guess we should."  
  
        She doesn't notice the worried glance her sisters share behind her back before Buttercup moves to follow, nor does she notice the way Bubbles lets her eyes trail from the melted floor to the new hole in the store's ceiling before joining them.

**Author's Note:**

> Blossom's moves are absolutely a shoutout to my best SFV girl Kolin, & Bubs is definitely throwing some Black Canary vibes. As for BC... well, you'll see.


End file.
